


Dying To Live

by Kiss_Me_Im_Pie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Implied Sexual Content, Multi, R Plus L Equals J, Robb Stark is a Gift, Sibling Love, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-05-12 00:11:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19217656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiss_Me_Im_Pie/pseuds/Kiss_Me_Im_Pie
Summary: Had it been anyone else, Jon would have yelled out in frustration by that point, zombie apocalypse be damned. There was a time to roller-skate down the road with a machete whilst singing ‘They See me Rolling’ and an eight am supply run was certainly not it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was created from a headcannon by @Starklinqs on Tumblr. Not really any spoilers on there so feel free to read the post. I'll try to update this every Friday.

Had it been anyone else, Jon would have yelled out in frustration by that point, zombie apocalypse be damned. There was a time to roller-skate down the road with a machete whilst singing ‘They See me Rolling’ and an eight am supply run was certainly not it. But it was Rickon, so he let it go the same as everyone else did. A semblance of a normal childhood, they called it – as normal of a childhood as a thirteen-year-old surrounded by zombies could get, at least.

The supply run was only meant to be a short one anyway, hence Robb’s reluctance agreement to give exception to the ‘No less than three people’ rule. Bandages, disinfectant, tinned food ( _‘Pasta if possible please!’_ Bran had written on the supply list) – the usual. If they were lucky it wouldn’t take an hour before they’d be back at the school.

“There it is!” Rickon called back. He held his sword out to the side, slicing the head of a walker in half as he turned into the car park. Jon quickly checked the body for any movement (not even a twitch – Rickon had gotten good over the years) and ran to catch up with him.

The store wasn’t particularly big, a simple corner shop that most had overlooked in a rush for the supermarkets. The shelves were half empty but still of some worth. He went to work quickly grabbing various tins and shoving them into his backpack while Rickon scanned them for anything more exciting. He flashed a grin when a spotted a door near the till counter, a faded ‘Employees Only’ sign still stuck to it.

“There’s a back room,” He told Jon, “I’m gonna see if they have more stock.”

Jon waited a few moments until the words actually processed but nearly dropped the can once they did. “Wait, Rickon don’t!” But Rickon had pushed open the door with a few shoves allowing the dormant burglar alarm to shriek into action.

“FUCK!” Jon shoved the tin into the bag and swept his arm across the entire medication section, allowing the items to drop haphazardly in the general direction of the open bag. “Let’s go, come on!” He grabbed his cousin’s arm and pushed them out into the street, swearing once more at the sign of the ample horde coming towards the noise. He was all for simply legging it back to their base but forgot that he was with the company of a teenager – a hyperactive one at that – only remembering when Rickon decided to skate straight towards the twenty or so walkers that had gathered. He grumbled but ran close behind, zipping up his bag and tossing one strap onto his shoulder.

Neither of them were too shabby at killing, Arya was still the best but anyone with eyes could see that. Rickon had been crafting a more stylized version that worked perfectly with his roller skates or bike for years, finally at the point where Jon and Robb didn’t have simultaneous heart attacks whenever he began to weave in and out waving his machete. Jon himself preferred a more simplistic approach, stab and move on hadn’t failed him as of yet, but he wasn’t about to criticize whatever worked.

“This is why-” He sunk his sword into a rotting head, “-we don’t-” Another came up as the first fell, he swung his sword in fury, “-open doors where-” Blood from one of the younger boy’s kills splattered him on the back, “-we don’t know the area!”

“That alarm should have died by now.” Rickon tried to argue, but any conversation was difficult to hold when trying to fight for their lives. The final walker fell to the ground, the dying groans silent in the morning sun. “Besides, it worked out, didn’t it?”

Jon shook his head and glanced down at the of the fallen enemies. All of his limbs had been cut off, strewn over the road, but the head still twitched as it tried to rise. “You’re meant to kill them when you fight.” He pointed out.”

“It has no arms or legs, what was it going to do? Sausage roll us to death?”

Jon rolled his eyes, putting the beast out of its misery whilst briefly pissed he couldn’t do the same. “It’s the principle of things. You do what you need to do to live.”

Rickon smiled once more, beginning to skate backwards down the road when had come. “Well, we lived. And we’ll continue to live by taking this stuff back to the school.” Jon rolled his eyes again but followed him close behind. _Kids._

The others were all awake by the time they returned, gathered in the sports hall that worked as their main common room. Robb was going over something with Edd, both gesturing to the beaten map on the table. Sansa and Bran were both sat together, Bran reading whilst his sister tried a sewing technique on an old scrap of fabric. She’d been attempting it for a while. Sam smiled at them as they entered the hall, taking the passed bag with a smile.

Arya bounded over to them, twirling a knife in her hand as she passed over the new items. He held up a cup with a raised eyebrow, “Noodles? Again?”

Jon barely suppressed a yell of frustration through the power of will. “Fuck this, I’m going back to bed.” He turned around and began to sulk out back to his classroom. “Wake me when the next apocalypse happens.”


	2. Chapter 2

The school had originally been a temporary base, with little intentions past clearing out a single room and spending a couple nights there. Over time as more groups rejected them (whoever saw Bran as a liability had clearly never seen him with his bat - years of pushing a wheelchair will give you pretty decent power behind a swing) they adventured further in and created more room. Within a couple months the entire building was empty, the bodies were burnt and the fence had been reinforced. As more people sought shelter and they became a group of their own, the others began to refer to them as Winterfell after the name of the school. The numerous classrooms made it easy to house people as they came and the grass areas were fine starting grounds for gardens. Every time Robb looked at the base, he couldn’t help but think of what his parents may have thought. How they would feel about their eldest daughter, their sweet princess, being a seasoned medic, able to amputate limbs without a second thought. How they’d act at he thought of Bran working night and day for a cure with what limited resources a school laboratory can give. What they might have said at the idea of their baby boy killing monsters instead of playing outside with friends.

Robb tried to clear his head each time the thoughts broke in. He knew what his parents would think. They’d be happy that they were all together; all happy, all alive. Not many could say the same.

At the very least they wouldn’t be surprised about Arya - she was exactly who anyone expected her to be. Between her sword and knives she was a five-foot-something hurricane against walkers and humans alike. Robb wasn’t one for violence (Jon wasn’t either, but he was always much quicker to decide that living was easier with the other party dead), but he had to admit that Arya was good at it. Case in point: meeting up with other groups.

Alongside Winterfell, there were three other groups within the nearby vicinity. The Kings Landing Shopping Centre group was a no-go group. Previously trading had been set up between them but after a brief romantic facade for abuse between Sansa and  he-who-shall-not-be-named  both groups had decided that it was probably best to stay the hell away from one another. The Wall was an army base further north. Jon had originally been based there before everything went to shit and had left to ensure his family’s safety along with Edd and Sam, but kept decent contacts with his friends who stayed. The Wildlings were the oddest ones, called such since they refused to claim a base and instead slept outside ‘in the wild’. Most were alright, Tormund had been a good source for trade and backup for a few months by that point, but there was always a chance of someone charging. Arya and her crew were a useful asset when going there.

“Wolf cubs!” Tormund greeted upon their arrival, strong arms seeming to mildly crush Robb in a hug. He hugged Jon soon after and simply patted Arya on the back. “I’m glad we have these meetings, it is nice to see other faces.”

“Are you getting bored of us then?” Val was walking behind them as she carried a load of firewood. She gave a wink to Robb which he returned with a smile as always.

Tormund laughed. “I could never get bored of you, princess.” He turned back to their group. “Mance said he had something to discuss with you as well.”

They began to follow him through the wooded landscape. Robb didn’t fail to see that Jon had disappeared from them, he rolled his eyes. In contrast to Arya, Jon was pretty useless when they went to visit the Wildings - they had a red haired girl to thank for that.

 

——

 

Jon didn’t exactly like abandoning the group whenever they went to the Wildings camp, but he had needs and wants. Ygritte has been good as meeting them. In return, she taught him to meet hers too.

She was also good at finding areas of the woods where no one bothered them for an hour or two.

 

——

 

“Mance, are you certain?” Robb’s eyebrows were raised sceptically. “We’ve been at Winterfell for nearly two years now and no one has so much as touched the docks.”

“Wouldn’t even believe it myself if I hadn’t seen it. I don’t know which lucky bastard got a boat but they’re back and we need to fucking know why.” Mance was sat on a rock, the others all around him on the grass.

Gendry, forever an optimist, piped up. “Maybe they have more information on all of this.” He waved a hand in the general vicinity of the area, meaning the walking blue monsters beyond the trees.

Arya had never been an optimist. “Maybe they want to slit our throats while we sleep.”

Gendry raised his brows but Jaqen nodded along. “A girl is correct, we must be wary of any newcomers.”.

“Are they always like this?” Tormund asked Robb.

“Pretty much,” He faced Mance, standing up, “we’ll keep our eyes on the docks. You said that they would be here within a day?” Mance nodded. “We’ll stick near, no contact until we know why they’re here and what they want.” He turned back to Arya. “That means no murder.”

She pouted, mumbling, “This is why Jon’s the fun one.” Robb elected to ignore her.

As they walked out the camp, they came across Jon once more, looking severely more disheveled than he had before. Robb smirked at him as he approached the group.

“Shut up.” Jon mumbled, his face red.

“Didn’t say anything.” Robb was still smirking. “Your zipper’s down.” He couldn’t help but laugh as Jon’s face got even redder.


End file.
